


The Underestimated

by Ally_Kats



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Character Death, Death, Gen, Guns, Mafia AU, May or may not make more intros to characters in this AU, Violence, correct use of the word Bastard, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Kats/pseuds/Ally_Kats
Summary: (Mafia/Human AU. No au in particular, this is just my take on it.)Satan isn't one to handle disciplinary meetings. When he's asked to he complies, but finds himself in an... Uncomfortable situation.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	The Underestimated

**Author's Note:**

> EXPLAINATION
> 
> I chose to keep character dynamics the same at the cost of cannon details. That means that Satan is the youngest. He's the result of Lucifer's one night stand and grew up in the family under Diavolo. His relationship with his uncles is more sibling like, so they call him the seventh brother rather than their nephew.

Satan wasn't usually the one to deal with this type of meeting. Usually Diavolo or Lucifer would do this themselves. Seeing as both of them had their hands full, however, that left Satan to do the dirty work. At least, that was the excuse Lucifer had given him.

The meeting itself wasn't supposed to be as intense as some of the other deals Satan had been a part of. Those ended well or in a gunfight with little in between. Here, fortunately, it was just a discipline meeting, a 'talking to' with a few vague threats sprinkled in here and there to ensure certain people behaved.

Which is why Satan was here, alone, in the middle of an empty, abandon warehouse, sitting bored on one end of work down table. He'd set up half an hour early, and had been waiting much longer than that. The others were late, not that Satan cared. If they didn't show, he would just make a personal appearance at their homes.

Lucifer and Diavolo would have reprimanded them for their tardiness, but Satan wasn't either of them. If he was going to do it, he'd be doing this his way.

Satan had been waiting an hour before the man finally arrived. The door on the opposite end of the warehouse opened, and he walked in.

Chris, the party in question, wasn't tall, with greased back dark hair. He wasn't wearing a suit or hat, but a more casual undershirt and overalls. He wasn't alone, however. Others followed him in, all dressed in casual clothing and, to Satan's disappointment, all having weapons strapped to their sides.

The door closed behind them. Chris walked over to the table while his men spread out, creating a half circle around the two. Satan assumed this was for intimidation purposes... Though it seemed a rather lame attempt.

"Satan yeah?" Chris smile didn't reach his eyes as he offered a hand for Satan to shake, "Pleasure to meet you! Heard a lot about you."

Satan raised an eyebrow, only glancing around at Chris' subordinates and smiling politely, "You weren't supposed to come armed."

Chris' own smile fell and he retracted his hand, " _I'm_ not. The terms said nothing about my friends."

"We were also supposed to come alone."

"Well..." Chris pulled out the chair across from Satan and sat down in it, "You ain't exactly following the rules either."

He gestured to the gun hanging at Satan's side. An old revolver, simple and chipped maybe, but still as useful as ever. Satan chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning forwards.

"You could say the rules weren't set up for me."

They were both silent for a moment, staring at each other, a tense air between them.

This was proving to be every bit annoying as Satan thought it would be.

"Well I suppose it ain't fair to judge _you_ for being nervous." Chris laughed, breaking the tension, "Let's get down to business shall we? What did you wanna see me for?"

Judging by the display so far, Chris already knew, or at least had a guess. But Satan decided to humor him. It wasn't like he had much to lose anyways.

"I'm here on behalf of Don Diavolo." Satan started, folding his hands in front of him. "You were assigned to the new city to act as placeholders until we could move our operations there. You're our diplomat."

"Yeah?" Chris raised an eyebrow, "We've been there for a month doing that shit. Ya planning on moving in soon or something? Want us to give you a tour?"

His companions chuckled, and Chris turned his attention from Satan to smirk at one of them. They were all acting casual, looking at Satan with amused disdain and whispering among one another. They weren't taking this seriously.

Satan shook his head, stagnant smile still in place, and turned his attention back to Chris, "We have some time before that. However, you were given strict instructions not to antagonize the locals. Including the gangs already in the area."

"So?"

"You've been going against orders."

Chris seemed almost surprised at that, almost. He straightened up indignantly, "Who told you that bullshit?! We've been doing our job since day one!"

"Don Diavolo is helping pay for your expenses, your budget is used every week." Satan continued, "Yet you still harass the locals for money, gamble, and buy substances."

"No we-"

"On top of that, Diavolo knows you've been getting into 'arguments' with some of the other mobsters in town, and using _his_ reputation to get what you want." Before the other man could protest further, Satan reached into his pocket and held up a few photos, "I've taken the time to procure evidence, if you really want to see it."

Chris' mouth closed abruptly. Satan was a little satisfied to see the annoyance on the other's face. Clearly he expected to bullshit his way out of this. It was worth the time getting those pictures to see that smug expression turn sour.

The look was quickly washed away, however, as Chris shrugged, smiled, and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Alright ya caught us. So what? We use the money we get from those shit poor hobo's to pay you guys back. It's not like we're stealing from you guys."

"Don Diavolo wants a good reputation there." Satan began, "He doesn't-"

"Why the hell does he want that?" Chris interrupted, "I mean he could take the city by force if he really wanted to."

Satan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Not your business. You're supposed to do what you're told-"

Chris cut him off yet again, "It's not like you should care. You're just some lacky of his. I bet you benefit off of this shit too, kid."

Satan's annoyance grew. He could ignore a lot of the disrespect, breaking the rules of the meeting, the lying, and the interrupting, often enough. But this idiot was pushing his luck. Satan had good self control, but even he had his limits.

"You're not taking this very seriously." Satan noted, with an edge to his voice, though his smile remained.

"Lucifer let his bastard son take this." Chris shrugged, "Must not be very important to him if he's not willing to show up himself."

Satan raised an eyebrow, "Are you here to insult your boss or-"

"Look, kid." Chris folded his arms and gave Satan a patronizing look, "This is big boy territory, not a game your daddy lets you play!"

There was chuckle from his men at that comment. A few mutters of, "Damn right," and "You tell that bastard," from the crowd. Satan felt what little patience he had left running thin.

Chris gave him an emboldened smirk, "We know what we're doing on _our_ turf. We don't need some stuck up, silver spooned, son of a whore telling us what to do!"

Satan's smile tightened and his hand reached for the revolver on his hip.

There was a rustle of movement all around them and several of Chris' men drew their own weapons, one looking to be a small machine gun. Satan's hand froze on the handle of his revolver, clearly visible, but he raised an eyebrow at the crowd.

"See kid?" Chris was still smiling, "You can't do shit. So just relax. All you gotta do is go back to the bosses and tell them we agreed and not to look our way. That's all I want. Don't fuck with us again, and you can keep your head."

Satan didn't move, still staring coldly back at Chris with an amused, if irritated, smile. He could feel the stares of everyone around him, aiming for him, laughing under their breath. But he had to keep calm, had to keep frozen, had to wait until-

Chris sighed, apparently disappointed, "You're as bull headed as your 'brothers', aren't ya? Don't know when you're beat, don't know when to quit. Really damn annoying you guys are the ones in charge. They call you the seven deadly sins, yet all I can see is the seven dumbass slu-"

The sound of shattering glass filled the air, as well as the shot of a bullet, and the man with the tommy gun crumpled. There was a moment of confusion and panic from Chris' men, then Satan was on his feet. It was only after two more shots, one from Satan's revolver and one from the sniper outside, that the men moved, ducking and yelling for cover.

Chris stared in shock a moment longer than the rest, and Satan jumped at the opportunity. Before anyone else could fire, Satan had grabbed Chris from behind, yanked his head back by his hair, and put the gun to Chris' neck, aiming it up.

"Order them to stand down," Satan hissed into the other man's ear, "or I take everyone else out with you."

"Stop!" Chris' yelped immediately, voice having lost all bravado and cracking, "Do-Don't shoot!"

The other's in the group took heed, and the sounds of gunshots quieted, only echoes remaining. Most of the men were smart and stayed behind cover. It was quiet, so peacefully quiet.

Satan pressed the barrel into the pathetic man's throat. He could see the way sweat ran down Chris' skin as he shook. There was a flinch as Satan tightened his grip.

"I would suggest..." Satan hissed through his gritted teeth, "That you watch what you say. I would hate if what's left of your brain was blown to bits."

Chris opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. He was frozen with terror.... Not good enough. Satan tugged his hair, hard, pushing the metal in further.

"Understand?"

"Y-Yes."

"You were right on one thing." Satan was snarling now, yanking the hair further back, "We are called the seven deadly sins. Do you know what _my_ sin is?"

Chris didn't answer, but Satan continued regardless, "Wrath. I don't take kindly to mother fuckers with attitude, certainly don't trust a bastard who's been fucking up shit on purpose. Your little plan might have surprised Lucifer or Don Diavolo, but you got _me_ instead."

"Now, here's what's gonna happen!" Satan rose his voice so that all could hear, "Unless you all want to go home in body bags, you're going to accept the terms and walk away, _without_ any other stunts! No more of this dealing with other mobs, no more going against Diavolo's orders for your own gain! If I even get a whisper of you being on bad behavior, every single one of your homes will be ash. Got it?"

There was silence from the room for a moment, maybe out of terror, so Satan turned to Chris instead.

"Got it?"

Chris nodded, "...Course! I... O-Of course!"

"Good." Satan let go of the man, though his anger had not yet abated. He reigned it in, however. Lucifer and Diavolo would be a pain to deal with if they found he shot their best in on the next city _after_ having secured his obedience.

Chris fell to the table, swallowing hard and putting a hand to his neck, as if to protect it from a threat no longer there. Satan allowed him a moment to collect himself, before sitting back down and putting up his feet on the table, revolver still in his hands. A few of the men peaked out of their hiding places timidly.

They weren't smiling now.

"If I have to come down there myself and make sure you don't fuck us over, I will." Satan's smile was back in place, as if nothing ever happened, "I'm a bastard, sure, but I sure as hell keep my word.."

Chris' face was pale, but he nodded. Satan grinned further, thoroughly enjoying the scared look on the other man's face.

"Now kindly fuck off!"

With that, Chris scrambled to get up. He motioned for his men to follow, and they all quickly hurried for the door. Satan casually aimed and fired right as the door closed behind them, the bullet bouncing off harmlessly with a loud crack.

He swore he heard a girlish scream from the other side.

* * *

Long days at work often made Satan exhausted. Especially when it came to situations like this.

Three people dead meant three bodies to dispose of, three families to compensate, three losses to grieve. Three lives lost.

The first man had been a husband. His wife peeped out of the doorway when Satan arrived, looking scared and sheepish. She was too thin, hair streaked with white and grey, despite her young age. Satan could see two children behind her, both young and filthy. The wife almost looked relieved when Satan gave her the news, and mumbled a thanks when he passed her the money.

Satan didn't have any guilt over killing that man.

The second man had a grown up daughter listed as a relative, and only a few other drinking buddies as friends. The daughter seemed surprised, but not angry or upset, though Satan assumed she was masking any feelings she did have. He gave her the money and left. This man had few who missed him.

The third man was an entirely different story.

When Satan knocked on the door, he waited a long time before it was answered. An old woman, with cloud white hair and wrinkles as deep as canyons opened the door. He saw past her shoulder, into the living room, where two young kids sat watching television.

A heavy weight settled in his stomach as he told the old woman the unfortunate news. When he went to hand her the money, she didn't take it, frozen in place. It was a moment more before she fell to her knees, trembling and sobbing.

Long days were never easy for Satan.

He wasn't sure why he did this. The money could be delivered by someone else easily, he could even call Barbatos to do it for him like many of his brothers did. It would be easier that way.

But he never did, and it left him feeling sick sometimes.

Perhaps it was to make himself feel better, knowing their families would be taken care of, or to know that they were horrible people to the ones they loved. That no one would miss them....

But sometimes... Good men got killed. Good men with families that would miss them got killed, roped into a world of violence and greed by necessity.

Those ones hurt the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear, Satan had planned for what Chris was trying. He's aware of what most of the city thinks of him, he just doesn't care.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy! :D


End file.
